


The Worst Mistakes

by Yadirocks



Series: Catching Generations [1]
Category: Baseball RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-02
Updated: 2018-01-02
Packaged: 2019-02-27 06:50:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13242828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yadirocks/pseuds/Yadirocks
Summary: "He hated McDonalds, metal cleats, smelly gear, gas stations, the word 'aloof', cats, Cool Ranch Doritos, and Adam Wainwright's smug little grin that told him that his ace had done something dumb and he would be paying the consequence. Yadier could make an entire list of the things he hated, and it would take an eternity, but right now he was sure that there was only one thing in the world that he hated more than anything else: foul tips."





	The Worst Mistakes

Yadier hated a lot of things. His mother had always told him not to use such a word. "Hate is for the devil," she would chastise with a scoff before swatting him on the back of the head with her wooden spoon. "Though you are quite the hellion." Even though he knew that hate was a strong word, it was the only word that he could use to describe how he felt towards most things. For instance, he hated snow. God, he hated snow so much. He hated when the beginning signs of winter arrived in St. Louis towards the end of October. The only thing he wanted ice cold was his beer, which he only used to sooth the harsh Florida heat towards the beginning of Spring Training. Also, he hated driving and all the components of it. He hated McDonalds, metal cleats, smelly gear, gas stations, the word 'aloof', cats, Cool Ranch Doritos, and Adam Wainwright's smug little grin that told him that his ace had done something dumb and he would be paying the consequence. Yadier could make an entire list of the things he hated, and it would take an eternity, but right now he was sure that there was only one thing in the world that he hated more than anything else: foul tips.

The first one had just hurt a lot, and he hadn't really expected it. He had been hit in that spot before, but this time, it felt like someone had taken a mallet and slammed it against his skull. He was in too much pain to be embarrassed when he reached for the ground, trying to find it before his vision tilted. Luckily, that didn't happen, though he was still breathing hard when one of the trainers guided him to sit up. When the blurriness faded from his eyesight, he saw Mike Matheny striding towards him. He closed his eyes, already knowing what Mike was going to say. "What happened?" Mike asked first. Yadier sighed, trying to think straight, but it was difficult with his head still pounding in pain. "I...it just hit in a bad spot. I'm fine, Mike, I just need a minute," he explained, already moving to stand. He heard the trainer huff in protest, but when he shot a glare at him, the guy bent his head and stared at the ground, taking the hint. Mike put his hands on his shoulders. "Yadier, look at me," he said.

He really didn't want to, but he did as he was told. Mike searched his eyes for a moment, trying to detect whether he had a concussion or not. Then, his coach said, "Just...be careful."

Yadier didn't know why he felt like he needed to mean it when he nodded, but he did. "I will. I'm fine, Mike. Honest," he reassured. Mike gave him one last uncertain look, then squeezed his shoulder and released him. "If you're really fine, then let's get back to it," he said, turning on his heel and walking back towards the dugout. Yadier sighed in relief, glad that he had dodged that bullet. He went back down into his squat, ready to continue on with the rest of the game.

And then, of freaking course, it happened again. This time, though, he couldn't get up. His head spun, and he felt hands grab him to keep him from falling face-first on the ground. Nausea hit him fast and hard. No, he thought, not here. Throwing up in front of 40,000 people was not something he ever wanted or intended on doing. He let himself stay there until hands helped him onto his feet. He was hit with dizziness as soon as he was standing, but luckily, the trainer he had glared at earlier was there to catch him. The pain intensified, and he wanted to scream. Maybe he did, though he wasn't sure. He couldn't really recall anything after that until he was throwing up into a trash can in the tunnel going to the training room. How had he made it there on his own two feet? His legs still felt like they were made of jello. And that same trainer was still with him, this time practically holding him up as he was leaned over the trash can. He felt heat from embarrassment rush onto his cheeks. The rest of the night faded into a blur, and even though Yadier wasn't really certain what had happened, he did know one thing for sure: he had a concussion. He was out for the season. And he really, really hated foul tips.

*********

 Adam rushed down the hallway as soon as the game was over. He shoved past reporters that pelted him with questions and maintenance staff that were standing in the middle of the hallway, chatting. Everyone was in his way right when he needed them to move, but such was his luck. Still, he pushed his way through the thick, bustling crowd until he reached the opening to the training room. He sighed in relief, closing the door behind him softly. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on three trainers that were huddled around a figure leaned back against the wall. One was shining a light in his eyes, the other checking his pupils, while another asked him questions. "What day is it? What year is it? What team do you play for? Who did we play today?" 

 

Adam knew it was bad when Yadier only answered three out of the four correctly. The trainers shared a look, and one gave Yadier an ice pack while another gave him a pat on the knee. "We're going to run a concussion test, okay?" the other asked slowly. Adam knew how annoyed Yadier was with the question, but he answered with a simple thumbs up. 

 As the trainers scuttled away, Adam took their spot. Now he could see Yadier, though he wished he hadn't.

 Yadier was pale, his eyes closed. After taking two foul tips to the mask, he was sure to have a concussion. He didn't tell him that, though. Friends aren't supposed to point out the obvious, they're just supposed to be there. Adam was afraid to move Yadier. He had heard that he threw up, though he hadn't believed it until now. He looked sick, and Adam had never seen him like that unless he had drank too much and deserved it.

"Hey," he whispered gently, letting his hand rest on Yadier's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. Yadier's eyes opened a slit. His eyes unfocused, and Adam caught him before he could fall on his side. Adam feared that if Yadier hit his head again, it would kill him. "Stay with me, bud," Adam whispered, holding his friend's shoulders because there wasn't much else he could do. Yadier leaned forward and pressed his forehead into Adam's shoulder. How Yadier had managed to make it down to the training room on his own two legs was a miracle, Adam realized. He also realized that Yadier was aware of the situation. He was aware that he had a concussion, and aware of his pain. Hiding it this time must not have seemed worth it. Either that, or he was in too much pain to hide it.

The trainers came back, and Adam gently moved Yadier back to lean against the wall. He noticed a small wet trail on Yadier's cheek. He wiped it away gently so no one else would see his tear. 

The trainers examined him, so Adam sat out of their way as they ran the test. It took a long time, longer than usual, but that was because Yadier was having a tough time answering questions. He was too exhausted for this, and Adam felt bad for him, even though Yadier would kill him if he knew that he felt sympathy towards him. It was hard not to feel bad for the catcher, though, who was clearly struggling to stay awake. His eyelids kept fluttering closed, then snapping back open again quickly, as if each time he closed his eyes he fell asleep. In any other situation, Adam would've made fun of him for that, but right now, it just didn't feel right.

Towards the end of the concussion test, Mike entered the room, looking relieved when he saw his catcher. Adam didn't know what Mike had been expecting that would've caused him to be relieved by Yadier's pale face and trembling body, but whatever Mike's mind had conjured, Adam did not want to know. Instead, he waited until Mike approached the group. "How is he?" he asked. One of the trainers stepped away from the others. "Well, he could be a lot better. I wouldn't say his concussion is severe enough to take him to the hospital, but he will need to be very careful over the next few days. He'll probably be in a lot of pain tomorrow. It's usually worse on the second day than the first day," the trainer explained.

Mike's eyes never left Yadier. "I know," he whispered, and he took a shaky breath before saying, "I'll take him home tonight. I think I can do a well enough job explaining what kind of care he needs to his family."

 Adam watched the exchange in silence. The trainer nodded his consent, and the room went silent as the other two finished the concussion test. When the room had cleared and it was just the three of them, Adam asked, "Do you need any help with getting him home?"

 His coach had knelt down in front of Yadier, who was half asleep already. Mike looked up at Adam, and after a moment, he said, "He might need a wheelchair, since he was barely able to make it here when he was still aware. Could you go get one?"

 When he returned with the wheelchair that he had found near the storage room close to the dugout, he came back to the sight of Mike hugging Yadier, who...was crying? "I'm sorry, Mike," he heard Yadier say. Mike didn't say anything. Adam raised an eyebrow, and waited until Yadier had pretty much passed out, Mike still holding him. "What was that about?" Adam asked.

 Mike sighed and said, "He won't remember doing that tomorrow, guarantee it. I don't even know what he's sorry about, either. He just started crying. Poor kid, he's probably in a lot of pain."

 Adam released the breath he had been holding. Mike maneuvered Yadier into the wheelchair. Yadier groaned at being moved. "Sorry, buddy," Adam whispered, giving him a soft pat on the shoulder. Yadier didn't make another peep as Mike took steered him out of the training room. Adam followed behind, shutting the door behind them. "Can I do anything else to help you? He's my best friend, after all. Don't tell him I said that, though," Adam said quickly.

 After a long moment, Mike shook his head, and gave Adam a soft smile. "I think I can take care of it from here. Thank you, Adam. I'll let you know how he's doing tomorrow," Mike promised. Adam nodded, and watched Mike wheel Yadier down the long hallway that lead to the parking lot. Maybe Yadier wouldn't remember any of this the next morning, and maybe Adam really couldn't hold any of it against him. Still, Adam felt like he had missed something from Mike about this whole situation, like there was something that had been left unspoken. Maybe, he thought as he turned and walked to the clubhouse to get his things, what Mike had to say wasn't for his ears.

 ********

"Shut up. No I didn't."

 "Did too!"

 "Adam, what exactly would I have been crying about?"

 "Uh, I don't know, maybe the fact that your brain was all mush," Adam countered. Yadier scowled at him from across the table, pushing away his leftover Taco Bell nachos. He shook his head in disbelief and stared out the window. What did Adam know? He was probably lying. He never cried, about anything, ever. He added that onto the list of things he hated in his head. Crying was listed just above Justin Bieber, and just below puking, which he had also added because of this whole scenario.

 A hand touched his, and he looked to see Adam staring at him. "Yadier, have I ever lied to you?" he asked. Oh no. There was not a safe answer to this question. If he said yes, then Adam would be offended and would stomp off with his arms crossed, and though he wanted Adam to leave him alone, having his best friend be mad at him wasn't really that ideal at the moment. If he said no, then what Adam said was true, and to think of what it would mean if he was telling the truth...

 Yadier looked away again, biting his lip. "Yadi...do you remember anything from that night?" Adam asked gently. He did, though not much. He remembered the pain, of course, and he remembered throwing up. If he remembered those two embarrassing things, he didn't see how he wouldn't remember crying in front of Mike like Adam had said he did. He wanted to groan out loud. Why did this even matter? Why had Adam even brought it up? He had wanted to know what had happened after he threw up, but only because he wanted to know what the trainers had said about his condition. He didn't want to know what things he had done when he was half-conscious and unaware of what he was doing. It was similar to how he wouldn't want Adam to tell him what he did when he was drunk. He didn't want to know, because it was probably bad.

 "I...I don't know, Adam. I remember a little. Not a whole lot. Look, I just want to know what the trainers said," he specified. Yadier couldn't meet his eyes, especially when he felt Adam's gaze weigh on him. "The trainers said that your concussion wasn't that severe. Mike seemed to agree," he answered simply. Yadier was surprised by that, though he tried to hide it. He couldn't begin to fathom what a severe concussion would be like. He had thought the one he had gotten was pretty bad anyway.

 "I think you should talk to Mike, Yadi," Adam said suddenly. Yadier finally looked at him, and he crossed his arms. "Why's that?" he asked, admitting to himself that he was curious.

 Adam shrugged. "I don't know, I think that maybe he wanted to say something to you that night, but you were almost unconscious. I'm not sure what he was going to say, but I know that he seemed pretty worried when he was about to take you home. I think it would be a good idea to ask him what he had wanted to say," he reasoned. Yadier sighed, staring at the edge of the table. Adam poked him with his fork and said, "Oh, and by the way, we were playing the Cubs."

 "Huh?"

 "You thought we were playing the Blue Jays."

 Yadier added Adam's smart mouth to the list of things he hated.

 *********

 Yadier really didn't want to do this. If there was anything he was afraid to do, it was to go to Mike's office before a game. The manager would always be in there, thinking up his lineup for the upcoming matchup, and Mike enjoyed the peace and quiet he got while doing this. Yadier knew that, yet here he was, standing outside of the closed door. Curse Adam for making him do this. He would have to get back at him somehow.

 He was about to knock, but he stopped. He took a deep breath. Maybe he should return later. Maybe Mike wouldn't know what he was talking about. Maybe Adam had lied after all and he was just wanting Yadier to embarrass himself by showing up to Mike's office during pregame. He closed his eyes and rubbed his face with his palms. This was ridiculous.

 "Yadier, I'm afraid if you were to decide to knock, no one would be there to answer."

 He jumped and turned around, and his cheeks burned once again with embarrassment when he saw his manager standing behind him, keys in one hand and a cup of coffee in the other. Yadier swallowed his pride and said, "Right. I...just..."

 Another thing he hated: being at a loss for words. Mike raised his eyebrows, stepping past Yadier and unlocking his door. "Was there something you wanted to see me about?" he asked. No. "Yes," he answered quietly. Mike frowned at the tone of his voice, and gestured for Yadier to enter when he had opened the door. Yadier took the invitation, taking a seat in the chair in front of Mike's desk. Mike didn't turn to his computer or grab his lineup sheet like he thought he was going to. Instead, he sat down and waited for Yadier to build on his response. Yadier swallowed hard. He really wasn't prepared for all of the attention to be on him.

 "It's about my concussion," he whispered. Mike's eyes softened. "Yadier, I'm sorry, but I'm not letting you play. It's much too risky," Mike said. Yadier shook his head, and he winced. When he opened his eyes, he thought he saw a flicker of concern cross through his manager's eyes, but it was so fast that he almost missed it. "It's not that," he said softly. "Adam told me about what happened in the training room. That I cried. That I apologized for something. What was it?"

 Mike looked away, and he stood, going to his filing cabinet. He opened one of the cabinets and began to look through them. "Yadier, when you took my spot on this team, I was going through a very rough time. I knew I was near the end of my career, and that despite me not wanting it to stop, my playing days were drawing to a close. I saw you and knew that you would take my spot. You were so young and so great at what you do, and I knew that in my state...I could never compete with you," he said, though he didn't sound bitter or sad like Yadier thought he would. He sounded reminiscent, like he was remembering how things used to be. Yadier listened, feeling like a kid being taught by an instructor.

 Mike pulled out a thin photograph and handed it to Yadier. He took it and stared at it. It was a photo of Mike when he had been in his older playing days, getting drilled by a runner at home plate. Yadier was confused. Why would Mike show him this?

 His coach leaned down and put his hands on Yadier's knees. "Before that play, I had already suffered a foul tip to the head," Mike admitted. "I chose to stay in, and I paid the price for it. After that game, I spent two days locked inside a dark room, unable to move, unable to see sunlight, and it was all because my coach had asked me if I was fine on that foul tip, and I said yes."

 Yadier suddenly understood, and he looked Mike in the eyes. Mike whispered, "Yadier, I should never have let you make the same mistake that I did, but every time I look at you...I see a little bit of myself, and I knew you weren't going to allow me to take you out of that game until you were physically incapable of playing because that's exactly the way I would've reacted too. That isn't why you apologized."

 Yadier stared at the photo as Mike said, "You were having a hard time staying awake, so I tried to reassure you. I told you that it would be better soon, and that the pain would go away after a while. And you said, 'This is what you went through every day.' Then-"

 "I hugged you," Yadier whispered. Mike nodded. It was silent for the longest time, when finally, Mike said, "Yadier, just promise me this."

 "What?"

 "When you become manager of this team one day...don't repeat my mistakes. When your catcher takes that first shot and says he's fine...he's not. Let him make you drag him out of the game. It isn't worth it to see the cycle repeat itself," Mike said quietly, and even though Yadier hated hugs and hated feeling sad, he knew that this would stay between him and Mike. That's what made him pull Mike back into a hug.

 "I won't. I promise."

 And if there was anything Yadier Molina would love, it would be keeping his word.

 


End file.
